


It's cool, we're just friends

by sierraadeux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Greece, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Vacation, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux
Summary: A romantic getaway for two, a beautiful Greek island, the wedding of everyone's dreams - what more could any couple want? Well, for Phil, maybe just for his date to not be his best friend.or, the one where dan is an idiot, phil is an idiot, and the street cats of Santorini are incredibly cute.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 65
Kudos: 310





	It's cool, we're just friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Interficcia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interficcia/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE!!!! This ones for you <3
> 
> i would love to take you all on the journey in which this fic was born because I still don't quite understand how I got here:  
> it all started out by me asking julie if she could hand pick a story from me what would it include, thinking she would request something incredibly raunchy and filthy because thats our julie <3 but then she said the magic words: fake relationship, sharing a bed and I was like how could i not???  
> somehow, along the way of setting out to write a small little one shot i ended up having a binge rewatch of the ENTIRETY of gossip girl (yes all in two weeks someone send help) and rekindled my obsession with blake lively (god she's so hot), which is what I'm choosing to blame for the fact that I sat down to write this and then started thinking about the sisterhood of the traveling pants, which THEN got me in the mood to watch mama mia, which THEN caused me to listen to the mama mia soundtrack on a loop for four hours straight while I attempted to bake bread - so needless to say we have gossip girl??? to blame for the setting of this story... idk where I was going with this quarantine is a nightmare, i'm trapped in my own brain, and the only research i put into this story was my vague memories of greece from the sisterhood of the traveling pants.  
> ANYWAYS it's been a long time since I chatted like this in notes, how is everyone? are you good or have you lost your mind like i seemingly have? I hope you enjoy this please go wish julie a happy birthday i love her so <3

The art of buttering up Daniel Howell involves a few easy steps, ones Phil knows all too well. 

Make a fresh pot of coffee before he wakes up. _No_ , not leaving the kettle on warm with a mug and the tin of instant coffee Phil loves out on the counter. Actually take the time to pulse those fancy coffee beans in Dan’s fancy coffee grinder and brew them through the large - and a bit intimidating looking - coffee machine that Phil always insists takes too much space up on the counter. 

Speaking of Dan waking up, don’t do that. Tip toe past his room and pray clumsy feet don’t trip over each other on the way to the kitchen. Make the least amount of noise possible - which is _exceptionally hard_ when trying to use Dan’s unnecessarily fancy fucki- 

Make the least amount of noise possible. Oh, and, make sure to close the cabinets before exiting the kitchen. 

When Dan does wake up, don’t be grumbly at him. Even though Phil desperately wants to - he’s not a morning person. So that’s a reminder he needs. Smile and let him choose the show to watch with breakfast on the sofa. 

Smile wider, more genuinely, when Dan announces he’s feeling a lazy day in to play Guild Wars. He’s making this far too easy. 

Go out to pick up lunch, take a walk through the park to pass time - also known as the tactic to keep himself out of the flat so Phil doesn’t feel compelled to bug and otherwise annoy Dan while he’s playing his game. Grab one of those huge pistachio muffins Dan loves from the vegan bakery down the street on the way back. 

Set out lunch on the coffee table, decadent green muffin in full view, but don’t bug Dan until he’s finished his current raid. 

“What do you want from me?” Dan says as he clicks off his game, dropping his headset on his desk and leaning back in his chair to shoot two upside down raised brows at Phil on the sofa. 

Because if Dan is this predictable to Phil, of course Phil is just as predictable as Dan. It’s not surprising, that’s how they are. 

“Who says I wanted something?” Phil quips back, knowing the look on his face is giving him away, but he’s still trying to buy time. To figure out how the hell he’s going to put this gently. 

“Right… What’s all this then?” Dan sits back up and pushes himself out of his chair, “Lunch… My favorite muffin? What did you do?” Dan’s eyes are suspicious slits as he makes his way over to the sofa, but there’s a soft smile on his face - that is what all this buttering up is meant to do. 

Phil bites back his own satisfied smile at his win. He’s not completely out of the woods yet.

“Weeeeeell…” Phil starts. Dan plops down in his corner couch crease opposite Phil and takes a large bite out of his muffin with a raised brow. He doesn’t suppress the groan in his throat as the food hits his tongue, but Phil is used to that by now. 

And by used to it Phil means he gets as distracted as always, his words dying on his tongue as he only thinks the purest of thoughts about his best friend. 

It’s easily brushed off as collecting his thoughts or delaying the inevitable and Dan is none the wiser. Phil’s learned to hide his _mild thirst_ quite well after so many years, as anyone would living and being best friends with someone as hot as Daniel Howell. 

Phil clears his throat. “You remember Sarah?” 

He watches Dan swallow, biting his lip as his brows tug together. 

“Friend from uni?” Dan cocks his head at Phil, “Blonde one that used to come down for New Years? Oh! Her girlfriend has those cute cats!” Dan fires off facts like he’s in some sort of _remembering things about Phil’s old friends_ competition. Phil laughs at how Dan’s eyes light up when it dawns on him that he’s right. 

“Fiancé actually.” 

“Oh right! They’re getting married soon,” Dan says through another bite of muffin. Phil watches the bit of crumb that sticks to Dan’s bottom lip, but he stays put on the other end of the couch. “Destination, right?” 

Phil nods. Dan’s tongue darts out to collect the crumb, leaving his bottom lip clean and glossy. 

“You’re going to…” Dan looks up at the ceiling, trying to rack his brain for the location that’s been blocked out for a full week on Phil’s digital calendar that’s synced to Dan’s computer. “Greece!” he shouts, looking back over at Phil, an exceptionally smug look on his face. 

“Mhm.” 

“Wait so, what is all this for?” Dan waves his hand around. 

“Well…” Phil repeats himself, trying to figure out how to go about this even though he’s spent the past ten hours lamenting over how to word what he’s about to say without Dan lunging across the couch to strangle him - _not_ in a sexy way. “She rung me yesterday, bugging me about how I didn’t RSVP with a plus one.” 

Dan’s opening his mouth before Phil can continue. “Phil. I’ll never say no to you going out of your way to put me in a good mood, but you didn’t have to do all this to get me to go to a wedding with you. You know that. How many times have we plus one’d each other now? That’s what friends are for.” 

Phil sighs, running a hand up his face and through his hair. “It’s a bit more than that…” 

“Yeah? Like I’d ever need convincing to go to _Greece_ for a week!” 

“Dan, I… mayhavetoldherthatwe’redating.” Phil rushes out all at once. He takes a deep breath after it’s out, looking down at his crossed legs instead of over at Dan. 

“You… _wot_?” Dan blinks. 

Phil lets his breath out before he starts to go lightheaded, but he doesn’t look up at Dan. “She was _so_ insistent on setting me up with her cousin, and when I finally got a word in to tell her I wasn’t interested in him she moved on to one of _Jamie’s_ relatives that she suspects is gay. And I just, I knew she wasn’t going to drop it, and I _really_ didn’t want to have different suitors shoved in my face all week, but you can’t tell the _bride_ no on her wedding-” 

“Phil. Breathe.” Dan cuts him off, leaning over with a hand on Phil’s knee. Dan squeezes and pulls away when Phil finally looks up at him. There doesn’t seem to be any anger in his expression, but maybe that’s just because Phil’s on the verge of hyperventilating. 

He listens to Dan. Taking long breaths in and out with Dan as he exaggerates his motions with his hands. 

Phil only speaks once Dan has put his hands back down. 

“I thought it would be easier to just tell her you were my boyfriend. I thought she’d drop it and I wouldn’t be hurting her feelings, win win,” Phil sighs. “I didn’t think she would get excited and _insist_ you come as my plus one. I’m so sorry.” 

“Phi-” 

“I can tell her it’s too short notice! Or we realized we’re better off as friends and it’s an amicable split, but my heart just isn’t ready to dive back in. Or-” 

“Phil. Can you please shut up for one second?”

Phil stops, his mouth still open as Dan scoots closer to him on the couch. He mimics Phil’s position, fully facing Phil and folding his legs criss-cross. Their knees bump together and Dan reaches a hand up to playfully bat at Phil’s jaw. Phil’s brain catches up and he closes his mouth - which goes a bit dry as Dan’s hand settles on Phil’s jaw instead of dropping back down to his own lap. 

Phil doesn’t think he’s breathing again as Dan somehow gets closer. Even though the smell of his shampoo and cologne is so settled into their shared home, Phil is always shocked at how it still smells so new and exciting every time they’re this close. 

A warm, soft thumb strokes at his cheek. “I would _love_ to play the role of your fake boyfriend in Greece.” 

He’s _definitely_ still not breathing as Dan stays close, Phil taking the opportunity to once again write a mental checklist on why brown eyes are his greatest weakness. 

“So you wouldn’t be mad if I said I already told her to put you down for the veggie option at the reception…” Phil whispers, somehow finding his voice. Dan just smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“When’s our flight, _love?”_ Dan’s thumb stops its gentle strokes and Phil sighs as the warm hand is pulled away. But Dan is smiling wide, amusement in his eyes, a reminder that Phil can’t let his face show just how much this is all affecting him. 

Phil gathers up all of his years of practice and snorts, scrunching his nose as he giggles and starts to bat at Dan’s shoulder until he sits up straighter and isn’t in Phil’s personal bubble as much. 

“I’ll see if there’s still seats on mine.” 

“And you’ll rebook if there isn’t.” It’s not a question, and Phil hates how correct Dan is. 

Phil nods once. “And I’ll rebook if there isn’t,” he parrots in the tone of a school child who was just told to repeat after the teacher.

“Good!” Dan grins and that shit-eating expression of his settles on his face. He pats at Phil’s knee again before bouncing up off the couch, “I’m gonna go get my laptop and _your_ credit card. What’s the dress code? How many days are we going to be there? I’m going to need a whole new Greece approved wardrobe!” Dan babbles as he makes his way out of the lounge and down the stairs, nothing but amusement in his teasing tone. 

Phil sighs to himself, grabbing his take-away container and a fork off the table and leaning back into the sofa cushions. The smile pulls onto his face on it’s own accord, despite how absolutely terrified Phil is feeling. There’s just _one_ thing you don’t do when you’re pretty sure you’re _more than platonically_ in love with your best friend, and that’s have them pretend to be your boyfriend for an entire week at a destination wedding. 

But Phil’s made his bed, there’s no going back now, all he can do is lie in it.

***

There weren’t any open seats on Phil’s flight, so he had to downgrade from his original business seat for economy. He would be more grumbly about it, accustomed to always spending extra for the room to stretch out and be a bit more pampered, but the flight is only four hours and Dan’s not only on the same flight but sat next to him - so really this is much better than a business class without him. 

Phil could do with a bit less of Dan’s legs though. 

Phil’s in the window seat and Dan the aisle. They both shared satisfied smiles and a covert high five when the plane was about to take off and a third never arrived to their row. It definitely makes up for the lack of leg room, both of them stretching out towards the middle seat as Phil plays on his Switch and Dan watches something he downloaded on his phone, but it’s proving to be distracting. 

He’s not sure why Dan decided to wear his new clothes over their typical comfy flight attire, but he’d like to think it’s the universe itself punishing Phil for getting himself in this predicament in the first place. The cream shorts are riding high up Dan’s thighs - they were short to begin with, but sitting in a cramped plane seat really bumped them up a few notches - and Phil is having an incredibly hard time looking away. 

Dan never goes into anything halfway. He always goes full force, immersing himself as much as he possibly can in everything he does. And Phil respects that about him, professionally and personally. It’s admirable. Even if right now it simply means he bought a whole new wardrobe for a week's trip to Greece. 

Everything Dan bought for the trip is so far out of his usual style, while still somehow being _so very Dan_ , that it almost gave Phil whiplash when the large boxes arrived in the post and Dan insisted on doing a haul. All of the pieces are linen or other light fabrics, and mostly in soft whites, creams, and blacks - keeping Dan’s monochromatic flair. Short shorts, chinos, short sleeved button up shirts, and rompers were thrown Phil’s way, each with an _‘I’ve always wanted to try out this style'_ from an excited Dan. 

Dan even threw a few pastel colored shirts and shorts Phil’s way, telling him they were for Phil and not himself before Phil could even question the colors. It was a bit out of Phil’s comfort zone, and his usual quirky button ups and graphic tees made their way into his suitcase alongside the new Dan picks, just as a few of Dan’s trusty striped tee shirts were nestled alongside his new clothes as well. 

And if Phil had _three_ separate dreams about the absolutely _tiny_ pair of black swimming shorts Dan bought and excitedly showed him, _well,_ no one needs to know about that but Phil. 

Santorini is bright and sunny when they land, and it dawns on Phil just how long it’s been since they’ve gone on a more beachy holiday as he looks out the small plane window and sees the sea from the tarmac. Two weeks in Japan and an American road trip have been nice and _exciting,_ but a calm washes over him at the idea of a holiday that promises more of an _island time_ feel. 

Phil can tell Dan’s thinking much of the same, with the way stress visibly leaves his shoulders once they’re out of the airport and in open air. He pulls down his dark sunglasses to roll his eyes at Phil as they wait for their ride.

“I told you to put your contacts in on the flight,” Dan clicks his tongue. 

Phil just squints and scrunches up his nose, the sun burning into his eyes making a fuzzy glow around Dan’s head. “I can see perfectly fine!” Phil huffs. 

“At least the sun’s going down soon, old man.” 

“Shut up,” Phil kicks Dan’s suitcase and Dan acts mock-offended. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Dan scrunches his face and shrugs into his left shoulder. Even though he’s done the gesture hundreds of times, it’s never not going to be cute. 

Phil does. Love him, that is. 

_“Boyfriend,”_ Dan adds as Phil starts to drift into his own mind, pulling his head abruptly out of the clouds and planting his feet right back on the ground. _Right._ The whole reason they’re here. 

Dan takes one of his hands off his suitcase handle and outstretches it towards Phil, waggling his fingers with the smuggest of all smug grins on his face. Phil takes it, lets Dan slide his long, warm fingers between Phil’s, because this _is_ Phil’s game they’re playing. He brought all this on. 

“Gotta get into character, right?” Dan hums, squeezing Phil’s hand. 

This is going to be far from a holiday, Phil doesn’t know why he ever thought otherwise. 

***

“You’ve never been, right?” Phil asks with his face all but pressed to the window of the taxi as they approach the village they’re staying in. Dan had dropped Phil’s hand to help load their bags into the boot of the car, and he didn’t grab it again when they slid into the back seat. Phil kind of hates how he misses it. 

Dan snorts and Phil feels his shoulder bump into his own. “Have you?” he responds in a voice just teetering on the edge of sarcasm. 

Phil pulls his eyes away from the view, turning his head to look at Dan in question. “No?” he says cautiously. 

“Then when would I have gone?” Dan laughs. 

“Valid,” Phil rolls his eyes as he looks back out the window, away from Dan before he can start thinking about how entwined their lives really are. “We’ve been to Athens though.”

“Something tells me they’re a world of difference,” Dan says softly and Phil looks back over to see him nose to the window as well. He hums in agreement as he tries to remind his heart - and, well, the rest of his body - that it shouldn’t be swelling like this at the sight of his best friend. 

When the taxi takes them as far as it can go, they stall on the cobblestone as people bustle around them. Not because they’re lost, no their hotel is just up the stair pathway to their right, but because they’re stuck in awe at the picturesque view they’ve been plopped into. 

“This isn’t real,” Dan whispers, almost unheard from the sound of people going about their days around them, the ocean crashing below them, and gulls from above. 

Everything is washed in white. All the identical, but somehow unique shops, restaurants, and villas reflect the warm sun in Phil’s eyes as he squints to take in the view. It all feels aged, but not weathered, _settled_ would be the word. Stones under their feet, narrow pathways and alleys tucked between the structures built into and up the cliff they’re standing on. For some reason it feels so out of place and perfectly in place all at once surrounded by the blue of the sea and the sky. 

Phil pushes down the rolling handle of his suitcase and picks it up off the ground, knowing full well its wheels won’t fare well on the old cobblestone. He pinches at Dan’s bicep as he starts in the direction of their hotel, earning a soft ‘ _ouch, hey!’_ in return. 

“Definitely real,” Phil calls, looking back to see Dan still standing in place, rubbing at his arm with a squishy, annoyed smile on his face. “Come on.” 

Dan snorts and shakes his head, following suit and lifting up his own bag to follow Phil. 

They’re more than a bit out of breath once they’re left at the door of the room amongst the string of villas that Sarah and Jamie booked for their guests. One narrow path of stairs was enough to have them huffing, but the three more _incredibly steep_ flights they had to trek to get up to the villas nearly kills them. 

Phil can see the headlines now: **Dan and Phil Found Dead in Greece. Cause of Death: Being Entirely Too Unfit for Their Own Good**

“Wow,” Dan says over Phil’s shoulder after Phil pushes open the door. He slides past Phil, making his way through the space as Phil still desperately tries to catch his breath in the doorway. Maybe he should have joined Dan on his runs back home, he’s quite jealous of his stair climbing recovery time as Dan ditches his suitcase in the middle of the first room and ducks through the archway into the next. 

The room is nearly as bright as outside - _hell,_ it basically feels like they’re still outdoors with the large doors of the balcony blown open, sheer curtains billowing with the breeze. There’s a small, very traditional looking kitchenette to Phil’s left, a colorful fruit basket and a bottle of wine on ice greeting him on the counter. Between Phil and the ocean view ahead of him is a small sofa and television seating area, and Phil wonders who in their right mind would be staring at the television on the wall over the scene out the balcony. 

He drops his bag and bypasses the arched entrance to the rest of the room, walking right out to the open air. He can almost taste the salt on his tongue as he leans against the stone barrier of the balcony and breathes in. It might seem ridiculous to close your eyes when standing in front of one of the most beautiful views you’ve ever seen, but that’s what Phil does, letting a calm wash over him with nothing but the sounds of the village below in his ears. 

That is, until Dan shouts from the other room. 

“Sorry, what’s that?” Phil calls back, hoping Dan will come to him so he doesn’t have to open his eyes or let go of the warm stone he’s leaning against. 

There’s a pause, then Dan’s voice is closer, right behind him. 

“There’s only one bed.” 

Phil’s eyes shoot open. 

Phil doesn’t know why the possibility didn’t cross his mind. Of course he and his plus one, his _boyfriend_ , weren’t going to be booked a room with more than one bed. He just… doesn’t know why out of all the things he’s been stressing about in order to pull this off _this_ is what slipped his mind. 

It’s fine, it’s really fine. He reminds himself there’s no need to panic as he takes in a breath and turns to Dan. 

“ _Shit,_ that’s beautiful.” Dan looks incredibly calm, the opposite of the worried look on Phil’s face, as he steps onto the balcony and leans against the stone wall - just as Phil was a minute ago. Dan looks out at stark white and bright blue and Phil’s heart races so fast in his chest he’s concerned it’ll burst right through his skin. If it’s because of the predicament they’ve found themselves in or more simply - but not at all - a reaction to how beautiful Dan looks, he doesn’t care to dissect it. 

“I can take the sofa,” Phil blurts out, causing Dan to shift so he’s leaning sideways - an eyebrow cocked at Phil. 

“Don’t be daft,” Dan shakes his head, “it’s like half our size. We can share, bud.” Dan taps a light punch against Phil’s shoulder with the name and Phil laughs at the right time in response - because contrary to popular belief, he _is_ good at pretending like it doesn’t affect him. 

“Alright.” Phil’s tone is surprisingly normal, he should really think about acting when YouTube goes downhill if he’s this good at it, and Dan flashes him a bright smile. “I’m gonna get changed,” he excuses himself, stepping back into the room and retrieving his suitcase to survey this _one bed_ himself. 

If Phil thought the view from the front room of the villa was one of the most beautiful one’s he’s ever seen, he doesn’t even have words for what he’s met with when he steps through the little archway that separates the two rooms. 

The balcony in the bedroom is even bigger than the other, making him really feel like he’s stepped outside just by walking into the room. It’s somehow even brighter too, Phil has to blink a few times for his eyes to fully adjust - and even then, he’s not quite sure if they’ve truly adjusted. He really needs to get his glasses off and his contacts in, desperate for sunglasses even indoors. 

Dan, of course, wasn’t wrong. In the center of the small room is a queen sized bed with fluffy, stark white bedding that makes it almost meld into the rest of the _very white_ room. It looks inviting and soft and Phil doesn’t want to start spiraling, so he steps around the bed and ducks through the bathroom door. 

Phil splashes some water on his face, wiping it off with one of the large fluffy towels, and feels his head get a little clearer from its cloud of _Dan, Dan, Dan_. His contacts are popped in and he trades his cozy travel joggers and tee shirt for a pair of jean shorts and a black oversized tee that says _‘vibes’_ across the front. 

He definitely doesn’t look as _Greek Holiday_ as Dan when he emerges from the bathroom and sees him star-fished on his back across the bed, changed out of the shorts and striped tee he wore on the plane and into a black linen romper. 

“Tired?” Phil asks, squeezing a hand around Dan’s foot as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Mmmph,” Dan groans in response. He cracks an eye open and gives Phil a pitiful look. “I shouldn’t have laid down, I think I’m permanently a part of this bed now.” 

Phil’s feeling tired from the travel as well, but they do have dinner reservations, and they really can’t fuck off of any of the things Sarah and Jamie have so kindly planned for them. Sometimes Phil wonders if they only decided to get married so they could properly mother all of their friends and family - putting them up in beautiful Santorini villas and setting every one of them up with a handful of activities beyond their wedding and reception. It’s too much, and too sweet, but it’s definitely quintessentially them. Honestly they’d probably appreciate getting to plan and organize an entire vacation for Dan and Phil over the fancy stand mixer Dan and Phil actually got them as a wedding gift. 

“Come on,” Phil pats at Dan’s ankle, “stay awake for dinner and I’ll let you get dessert.” 

“Oh, you’ll _let me?”_ Dan pushes up on his elbows and blinks, giving Phil an unamused look. 

Phil just smiles, “Two scoops of ice cream if you’re good.” 

“I’ll be _so_ good.” Dan winks and rolls out of the bed, already skipping out of the room before Phil can get up himself. 

***

If the concept of destination weddings was a bit lost on Phil - despite the obvious reasoning of wanting to get married in a place that’s special to the couple - it isn’t anymore. Santorini is _romantic._ And he knows he isn’t just projecting, not this time at least. No one could argue that it’s anything but romantic as soft chatter and clinking glasses float through the open air around them. 

They’re sat at a small table on the patio of a restaurant tucked between all the little shops and bars of the village, their long legs tangled together as they steal bites of food off of the other’s plate and make up hushed life stories of the people who walk past. 

It’s still pretty high up - Phil would say it’s a perfect view if he wasn’t already convinced that every spot in the town had a perfect view. The sun is just starting to go down, the breeze still warm but it’s blistering heat subsiding as they eat, and he’s finally, truly realizing why Sarah and Jamie wanted the backdrop of a Santorini sunset to bind them in their love. 

It’s beautiful. And probably one of the most romantic things he’s ever seen - which truly isn’t being helped by how he’s sat across from Dan, all of it unfolding just past his head. The sunset casts a golden hue on swirling curls like Dan’s something out of a painting. 

He’s turned away from Phil, as he’s been since the first few awed gasps around them when the sun started to go down, and Phil watches as Dan taps at his phone, capturing the way the white of the buildings around them shift to a pinky-orange hue along with the sky. It’s breathtaking and beautiful and Phil accepts defeat in trying to convince himself it’s just because of the island. He takes his own phone out, taking a few _probably out of focus_ pictures of Dan turned in his seat admiring the view. 

Something catches Phil’s eye when he sets his phone back down on the table, and he taps his foot against Dan’s ankle to get his attention. 

“Hey look,” he says quietly, as if it would get spooked away if he spoke any louder. Though the streets are bustling and the restaurant isn’t quiet, so there really isn’t any need, the fat striped cat continues on its path towards their table. 

“Wha-” Dan starts, turning back towards Phil, then looking down at the street where Phil is waggling his index finger. 

Phil’s heart swells as Dan’s expression completely changes from its previous relaxed calm to pure excitement - the widest, breadiest of smiles pulling across his face as he leans over in his chair. 

“ _Oh, hello,”_ Dan coos, the voice he reserves only for animals and small children replacing his usual tone. That does something to Phil’s heart as well - fuck Phil’s heart, can’t it just get a clue?

Phil resists his urges to cross his arms and be visibly put out with his own damn self, putting up appearances has never been more difficult. It must be the sea breeze messing with his head. He lets himself watch Dan call over the cat instead, a soft, probably too fond, expression on his face as the cat comes closer and lets Dan scratch its ears. 

Dan pauses his myriad of coos and little soft noises at the cat to look back up at Phil, “I love it here.” 

Phil returns Dan’s smile and Dan leans back down to stroke the cat’s back when an impatient meow enters the conversation. He hates how soft it makes him feel. Soft for Dan, for this moment. 

He hates that a night that’s nothing but platonic can feel like something even beyond romantic. If that’s even possible. 

“Me too,” Phil sighs, leaning his head in his hand as he watches Dan coo at the cat some more. “You better wash your hands before you come anywhere near me,” he adds in a teasing, warning tone - an attempt to pull his mind away from the thoughts it’s desperately trying to bring to the forefront. 

“Now why would I do that?” Dan sits back up in his seat, a devilish grin pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Don’t even thi-” Phil warns, but is cut off by Dan lunging across the table. It’s childish and inappropriate for the restaurant setting but that doesn’t stop the both of them from erupting in giggles, Phil grabbing Dan’s wrist to keep his hand away from his face as Dan snorts and pretends like Phil’s actually preventing him from getting any closer. 

And that’s why Phil loves Dan. There’s no one else in the world he would want to be acting like total fools with in a nice restaurant in the middle of a beautiful Greek island. No one else at all. 

Phil lets out a big sneeze and Dan shrieks as Phil’s sure he’s gotten caught in the crossfires. 

“Desgostang.” Dan dramatically wipes at his face. 

“Just like you,” Phil scrunches his nose, looking not unlike a rabbit, as he tries to prevent another sneeze. 

Dan just rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat with a look on his face that reads anything but put out or annoyed. Phil would call it fond if he wanted to break his own heart. But he doesn’t, so it definitely isn’t fond. 

***

The evening plays out in a few more cries over street cats, shared dessert, and more than a few detours on the way back to their villa. Dan insists they’re detours and not them being actually lost, and Phil humors him only because Dan humors him every time they pass by or duck into the little shops along the way - buying silly, overpriced souvenirs they don’t need while Phil insists on putting all of the big floppy sun hats for sale on Dan’s head. 

They finally arrive back to their room when the sun has long been gone from the sky, both with heavy eyes and tired feet, Dan with particularly messy hair. Phil thinks it’s cute though, so he doesn’t point it out. And when Dan yells something from the bathroom along the lines of ‘ _I look like a bird started making its home in my hair! Phiiiiiiil!’_ Phil simply blames it on the exhaustion. 

Phil also doesn’t let his usual anxiety swell when Dan insists they leave the balcony doors open. 

“When are we ever going to go to bed with a balcony wide open to fresh Greek sea air? You can’t get that in London!” Dan calls from the room through the bathroom door. Phil blames it on his tired brain when he calls back a ‘ _yeah, you’re right’_ as he digs through his bag for his toothbrush. He’d like to think it’s more of him believing there really aren’t burglars or murderers climbing up Santorini villa balconies, instead of the real truth that he really just feels safer knowing he’ll be sleeping next to Dan. 

So what if Dan makes him feel safe? That’s totally a friend thing, so he doesn’t know why he feels the need to justify it to himself. 

He’d like to say it’s also the exhaustion when he climbs into the bed after hastily brushing his teeth, popping out his contacts, and tugging off his jean shorts without a second thought. Maybe Phil appreciates it though, feeling so heavy with traveling and all of the day’s activities that he’s already slipping into dreamland as Dan’s slipping into the other side of the bed. Nothing more than a less than intelligible ‘ _G’night’_ to Dan’s ‘ _Sleep tight’ -_ no overthinking or worrying involved. It’s definitely better that way. 

***

Phil is pulled out of warm dreams by an even warmer breeze on his face and the sound of soft, hushed voices and a few clinking glasses. The moment is savored. The distant sound of waves crashing and seagulls scoping out their morning meals, plush hotel sheets. Phil soaks it in before letting himself fully wake up. 

It’s hard to be disappointed as he stretches and doesn’t make contact with another warm body when he blinks open his eyes to the open curtains on the balcony. Maybe there’s even some relief there, with the way his heart swells at the sight of Dan in his pajamas leaning over the edge, it’s probably for the best that Phil didn’t wake up next to him. He’s not sure if it’s the beautiful views or the fresh sea air or, maybe, it’s just Dan himself that’s causing his resolve to crack. 

They’re just friends, they’ve always been just friends. And Phil knows he really should find a way to stop romanticizing all of this. The very idea of Dan pretending to be his boyfriend is getting to his head and they haven’t even gotten through the wedding yet. 

Hindsight is 20/20. Or, well, maybe more like 20/100 - Phil huffs to himself as he leans over, his back making a satisfying pop as he stretches for his glasses on the side table. 

“Give me the strength,” he hums to himself once his glasses are on - Dan out on the balcony now crystal clear. All long legs, slept on, tousled hair, a big hand resting on the balcony wall. Maybe he’s always been a bit into hands. Maybe he’s just into Dan. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

“Good you’re up,” Dan smiles, the honey warm strands in his curls fade back to a muted brown as he steps back into the shade of the bedroom. His face is flushed and just nearing the look of being sun kissed, and it’s all Phil can think about while Dan goes on about the room service that was just delivered and set out on the little balcony table. 

Well, if Phil got himself into this mess, he can at least let himself enjoy the view. 

***

“You don’t look silly, trust me, you look good.” 

Phil throws a few things out of his suitcase, grabbing a more familiar button up he’s worn dozens of times. “I don’t know, maybe I should wear-”

“No! Don’t change,” Dan whines, stepping into the room. “You suit pink, that’s why I got it for you.” Phil doesn’t miss the flick of Dan’s eyes, down then up again - it would make him blush if it wasn’t just his mate surveying his outfit. Because that’s all it is, he reminds himself of that a few times over in his head until it sticks. 

Dan has dressed them both really, digging through Phil’s suitcase after brunch and setting out two articles of clothing Phil did not buy or pack himself. Phil exited his shower to a neatly Dan folded pile of colorful clothes that didn’t seem like either of their styles. A pink linen shirt - so pastel it almost looks white out of the sun - that Phil’s taken the liberty of buttoning all the way up, but rolled the sleeves up to his elbows because of the heat, and a pair of dark navy chinos. He feels out of place, the hem of the pants tickling at his ankles as he stands in front of Dan, but he can’t bring himself to put up a fight when Dan’s looking at him like that. 

“Big boyfriend energy,” Dan laughs, waggling his brows as he gestures to his own clothes. 

Dan’s shirt is open, a similar linen fabric with the sleeves pushed up as well, with a tee shirt the same navy shade as Phil’s trousers underneath. 

Or well, Phil drags his eyes down, the same navy shade as _both_ of their trousers - because of course Dan has put Phil in chinos the same color as his shorts. Shorts that once again cut off at that dangerous length a bit too high up from his knees that make his thighs look delectable. 

Not that Phil’s thinking about eating Dan’s thighs or anything. Nothing of the sort is going on in his brain as he looks Dan up and down. 

The matching doesn’t stop there though, Dan’s open shirt having thick vertical stripes alternating between a crisp white and a pastel pink. It definitely _is_ ‘big boyfriend energy’, especially as Dan grabs Phil’s wrist and drags him back into the bathroom, making him look at their reflection in the large vanity mirror. 

“This looks weird though,” Dan hums and he lets go of Phil’s wrist to tug at his collar, stepping up closer into Phil’s space and using both hands to delicately unbutton the top two buttons of Phil’s shirt. Phil watches from the mirror, he doesn’t trust himself to flick his eyes to the side where Dan’s up close and personal in his peripheral. The image does something funny to his stomach. 

Everything feels so right and so wrong all at once. 

Dan pats at Phil’s collar and steps back to give them another once over when he’s done. He smiles, all crinkly and bright at Phil’s reflection in the mirror, giving a satisfied nod of Daniel approval. Phil smiles back. 

He really can’t pout and change into his own shirt, not when Dan’s saying and doing things like this. Yeah, he isn’t going to change. 

“That’s a lot of color for you,” Phil bumps his hip to Dan’s. 

Dan bumps his hip right back, “When in rome.”

“We’re in Greece,” Phil deadpans. 

“Shut _up!”_

Dan lets out that loud, booming cackle of his as he playfully hits Phil’s shoulder. Phil can’t take his eyes off of the mirror, off of Dan. 

Yeah, Phil likes looking like Dan’s boyfriend. He likes it a lot. 

***

The wedding is beautiful. Not like there were any doubts that it wouldn’t be, but it’s far more magical, and honestly emotional, than he could’ve imagined. Maybe he’s more of a hopeless romantic than he thought, or maybe Dan’s just rubbing off on him - nudging at Phil’s shoulder during the ceremony to exchange misty glances and hum barely audible comments about how beautiful Sarah and Jamie look. 

Phil tries, he really does, to stay focused on the two women exchanging their loving and funny and very perfectly _them_ vows on the edge of a balcony that overlooks nothing but the blue sea and the shifting golden sky, but it proves far more difficult than he could ever imagine. 

Dan’s kicked it up to high gear, their hands haven’t spent more than a few seconds apart since arriving, putting on the full act that Phil signed them up for. It’s nice - more than nice really, it feels right. Like their fingers were always meant to be laced together. 

That- those thoughts right there, are exactly the ones Phil tries to kick out of his brain. But they’re far too spurred on by all of the things absolutely seeping with romance around them to squash them. It’ll hurt later, when they’re back in London no longer surrounded by romance, without a fake relationship to uphold, he knows as much. But he doesn’t quite seem to care, not when he can watch the sky meld from blues to pinks and oranges in the reflection of Dan’s eyes. 

At least now he can play off his pathetic pining as part of the act. Much better for not getting caught out by Dan, much worse for his heart. As Dan’s thumb is softly rubbing against the back of Phil’s hand, the couple in front of them embracing as everyone hoots and cheers, Phil decides to just focus on the now instead of the later. If it’s going to hurt later regardless, why not enjoy it while he has it? 

Even if it isn’t real. 

It’s surprisingly easy, something he doesn’t want to look into as much, as they’re sat around a table full of his and Sarah’s mutual university friends and their partners. Shoving pasta in his mouth as Dan laughs along with his friends as they poke fun and make jokes about how they always had suspicions that Dan and Phil were together. 

Phil never really thought they gave off those vibes, but as presumptuous as it is, two gay men living together for the better half of a decade with seemingly no other flings or partners being together themselves… he guesses he can’t be too put out about it. It makes a lot of sense. 

It helps that all of Phil’s university friends are newly married, buying homes, having children of their own, so the conversations around the table flow easily without having to talk about themselves or any made up love stories up either of their sleeves. 

And there’s really no other convincing needing to be done, which should alarm Phil more than it does. They’re such close friends, so used to being tactile with one another, that the only real difference in keeping up the charade is Dan’s hand in his own. It really should also alarm Phil how perfectly it works, how natural it feels - Dan’s right in his left, they don’t even need to part to eat their dinner - but alarm bells and wedding bells sound all the same lately. 

“There they are!” Sarah’s bubbly voice is over Phil’s shoulder, and he meets her arms wrapped around his shoulders, letting go of Dan’s hand to squeeze her back. 

“Congrats,” Phil hums in her ear before craning his neck to meet Jamie’s eyes as well. “The ceremony was lovely.” 

“You had mister stoic tearing up like a baby,” Dan says once Sarah releases Phil to hug him as well. 

“Hey! Don’t act like you weren’t wiping your eyes on _my_ shirt,” Phil shoots back as the whole table laughs. 

Sarah huffs, looking between the two of them with a smug look on her face. “I can’t believe I even thought of trying to set you up with anyone else.” 

“We like to keep it low key,” Dan shoots a perfectly crafted loving smile Phil’s way. He feels it like a dagger right in the center of his heart. “But I’m too jealous of a person to let Phil pretend like we weren’t together at such a _beautiful_ wedding. Isn’t that right, love?” 

The pet name twists the dagger, it hurts in a deliciously perfect way. For all the times he’s joked that Dan’s a masochist with a pain kink, maybe it’s really the other way around. 

“Something like that,” Phil says with a forced laugh - he’s good at playing characters though, acting like things aren’t affecting him when they really are, so Sarah and Jamie laugh as well. They make their rounds around the table, all of them laughing and joking, congratulating, and ooh-ing and aa-ing at their dresses and rings. Dan’s hand finds Phil’s again and everything feels so right. 

Right enough that when Jamie squeezes Phil’s shoulder before they move on to the next table, humming a soft ‘ _I hope the two of you are next’_ in Phil’s ear, it’s only second nature that has him glancing over at Dan. He swirls his pasta absentmindedly on his fork as he coos at a picture of one of Phil’s friend’s kids, that rosy patch of red on his jaw appearing just under the deepest dimple in his cheek. 

“I’ve always loved the idea of a destination wedding.” 

“We’ll be patiently awaiting the save the date,” Jamie winks before letting go of Phil’s shoulder. And with one last wave at the table she's off following after Sarah, and Phil’s left to stew in his own warm thoughts. 

He’s really not putting up an act at all. 

***

It’s not like Dan and Phil have never danced together before. They have countless times, and it’s really no different when Dancing Queen starts playing and Phil excitedly drags a heavy footed Dan onto the dance floor. Dan laughs though, tilts his head all the way back to let it out as Phil wiggles his hips and sings the words incredibly off key, and gives in. They hold each other’s hands and step on each other’s feet. Phil almost hits the floor when Dan tries to twirl him, and it all feels normal, natural, because they’ve danced like this before. 

Fun and friendly, something they’re used to. 

Phil’s thrown off his axis when the song ends and the music changes to something a lot less boppy. All of the couples around them slow down, catching their breath as they hold each other close. He’s ready to tug Dan off the dance floor, find their table again, but Dan has other plans. 

They’ve never danced together like this before, Dan pulling them so close together Phil would barely have to move to bump their noses apart. They trade their loosely clasped hands for a gentle hand at the back of Phil’s neck, a tentative squeeze at Dan’s side. 

“I can’t dance,” Phil says, hoping to ease the tension and his rapidly beating heart. It should be the other way around, calming down after slowing from vigorous movement, but of course when it comes to being around Dan that’s never the case. 

“I know.” They’re so close Phil can smell the wine on Dan’s breath. Maybe that’s why this has been so easy. Open bars are dangerous at weddings. “I have the bruises on my feet to prove it.” 

“Hey!” 

“But this isn’t dancing, not really,” Dan cuts Phil off. “We’re just swaying, no feet in danger.” He emphasizes his point by wiggling his hips. Phil bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, the way their bodies are pressed close together making the movement absolutely sinful. 

If it affects Dan, he doesn’t show it. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s done, how it’s affecting Phil, because of course Phil is the one with the unrequited crush and overwhelming attraction to his best friend. Dan’s just an incredibly good actor. 

His smile is bright and he pulls Phil closer. Phil, once again, tries to turn all the switches he can off so he can play the game as well. They’re both acting. Dan like he’s in love with Phil. Phil like he’s not in love with Dan. 

He lets himself enjoy it though, reminds himself he can bottle it up and let it crush him later, and he sways with Dan - stepping on his feet a few times for good measure. 

***

“I don’t know if it’s from all the social interaction or the dancing but I am feeling it,” Phil groans softly as they sway. Songs have changed, but Dan and Phil’s position on the dance floor has not. 

It’s nice, Phil lets it be nice without any overthinking or worrying. Just being held and holding Dan as they sway to a slow song, laughing and snorting as they step on each other’s feet and almost fall over to the more upbeat tracks. It feels too much like _them_ for Phil to get any weirder about it. 

“Exercise or pretending to be in love with me, what’s more exhausting?” Dan tilts his head as he laughs - his long, exposed neck from this close up making Phil swallow hard. Okay, maybe he’s a bit weird about it. But he can’t help it, he’s just weird for Dan. And a bit wine drunk, if he’s being honest. 

Phil laughs along with Dan, trying to make it genuine, because in reality he’s been desperately attempting to come off as the opposite to Dan. 

But at least it’s working, Dan seems to have no idea. 

Warm fingers tap at the back of his neck before Dan’s pulling away all together. 

“I have a bad good idea,” he says with a devilish grin on his face. 

“Bad good?” Phil raises a brow, trying to look more inquisitive than put out that Dan’s separated them. 

Dan nods his head towards the ocean view, “Do ya wanna get out of here?” 

Phil bites his lip, surveying the patio, then looking out to the sea again. A few people have trickled out already, but the party is still in full swing. Sarah and Jamie are in the center of the dance floor, stepping on each other’s feet, giggling louder than the music, and looking at each other like they’ve personally hung the stars in the darkening sky. 

It tugs at Phil’s heart in a bittersweet kind of way. He usually loves weddings, so why was this one starting to make him feel sad? 

He looks back to Dan, who’s now folded his arms across his chest, looking at Phil with expectant eyes. Phil rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” 

Because a party isn’t really a party if Dan and Phil aren’t ducking out early, wanting to be alone together. Apparently fake couple Dan and Phil are much of the same. 

Dan instructs Phil to wait for him, leaving him by the set of stairs that lead back down into the village after he fluffs his hair in his phone’s reflection to saunter off to the bar. Phil is starting to think he likes Dan’s bad good idea, up until he watches him change his posture entirely, leaning across the bar in a way that oozes seduction. 

Jealousy should not be itching across Phil’s skin, Dan isn’t his to feel like he has any claim of. He reminds himself that, drills it into his own head while he watches the bartender with perfectly tanned skin and toned arms flash a bright white smile back at Dan. He has to look away as Dan leans forward and the hot bartender puts his hand over Dan’s on the bar. 

Phil loses himself in the dark sea below, counting the little blue domes atop the buildings, the boats rocking in the bay, anything to distract himself from the sour feeling in his stomach as the image of a flirty Dan throwing himself at someone other than Phil. 

It’s fine. Dan can do that. Not like he needs Phil’s permission, but he’s allowed. They’re not together, Phil has no reason to be jealous. 

Twenty-three boats. They bob in the water and Phil counts them again. 

***

“Okay Bruce Wayne what are you brooding for?” Dan’s voice is right in Phil’s ear, a playful tap to his shoulder before he appears next to him.

“Are you really that tired, old man? We can go back to our room if you want, this was a stupid idea anyway,” Dan’s voice goes from teasing to something softer, more tentative, and it makes Phil finally pull his eyes from the point where the sea meets the sky to look over at Dan. 

His brows are pulled together in a slight concerned frown, and Phil doesn’t even have time to formulate a thought before he feels Dan’s knuckles tap against his own. He looks down, missing the moment Dan takes his hand because he’s side tracked by the bottle of wine he’s cradling in the crook of his other arm. 

Phil lets out a dry laugh, “Nice to see you’ve still got game.” 

Dan snorts. “Yeah right, he clocked me immediately.” Phil raises a brow, but Dan’s tugging on his hand, forcing him to focus on not tripping over his own feet on the cobblestone stairs. “Apparently flirting with the bartender for a bottle doesn’t work when you spend the night ‘ _looking so cute with your partner’_ on the dance floor.” Dan huffs out a laugh. “Let’s go before he realizes the note I slipped into his pocket for this was only a pound.” 

“You’re so bad!” Phil squeezes Dan’s hand as they make their way down the stairs with haste. Dan squeezes back. He hates that a weight is lifted from his chest with the knowledge that Dan was only flirting for a bottle of wine for them. He shouldn’t feel this way, he knows he shouldn’t, but it’s kind of impossible when Dan’s squeezing his hand tight and his loud cackle of a laugh is cutting through the ocean air as they bounce down the steps. 

“What can I say, you bring out the worst in me.” Dan slows their pace once they’re at the bottom of the stairs, throwing a wink Phil’s way before starting the descent of the next set of stairs. 

***

“I didn’t think this through,” Dan huffs. He’s brought them down the large, long winding stairs that lead right down to the sea. Phil busies himself with focusing on his feet on the stone steps, mostly so he doesn’t have to think about how Dan holding his hand tugging him along is making him feel. 

“I don’t want to see us on the way up if we’re already out of breath now.” 

“Fuck,” Dan breathes, “forgot about that.” 

“Bad good idea,” Phil provides with a squeeze to Dan’s hand. 

Dan smiles, shrugging, “I think it’ll be worth it.” 

Phil looks away from Dan, he’s honestly not sure how he hasn’t tripped over his feet with all his stolen glances, and looks out ahead of them. 

They’re all the way at the bottom now, just a few more steps between them and the bay they’ve been overlooking since they arrived. Since the sun has long set, there’s not nearly as many tourists, or much of anyone really, milling about the waterside path. The low hum of chatter from a few of the small seaside restaurants and bars is accompanied by the soft sounds of waves gently rocking the little docked fishing boats dotted around the bay. 

“Definitely worth it,” Phil says in awe as their feet leave the last step. He breathes in as they pause at the bottom of the stairs, his breath a bit ragged from the exertion. Phil’s at least glad the sun isn’t out, the evening breeze just barely warm - thankfully not enough to make them the sweaty mess he knows they would be if it were the middle of the day. 

His hand does feel a bit sweaty though, but that has nothing to do with the climate. Dan doesn’t seem to mind, or maybe they’re just too wine drunk to care, because he continues to hold on tight even though there’s no need to keep up the facade anymore. 

They walk along the water, hand in hand as they take in the foreign place, pointing out various things they pass. 

“ _T_ _hat’s a cool rock”_

_“That one looks like your mum.”_

_“You look like your mum!”_

_“Oh, well I would hope so.”_

_“Oo! Is that a cat?”_

_“Where?”_

_“Up there that white thing!”_

_“That’s a bird…”_

“ _Boat!”_

_“Yes Phil, there’s like twenty”_

They eventually pause at a little secluded spot close to the water, a collection of rocks that look perfect for a little sit with your feet in the water. So, of course, that’s exactly what they do. 

Phil makes fun of Dan’s ugly sandals as he kicks them off, and Dan makes fun of Phil’s pasty ankles after he’s stuffed his socks into his shoes and rolled the cuffs of his pants as high as they would go. 

“Not everyone toasts up like a marshmallow like you.” Phil feels one of his pant cuffs slide down as he plops down next to Dan, his legs already kicking softly in the water. He doesn’t even try to push it back up, knowing they’re doomed to get wet regardless with the way the water is halfway up Dan’s calves. 

Dan bumps their shoulders together once Phil’s sat next to him, their closeness due to the small surface area of the rock and definitely not because Phil wants to feel close with the absence of Dan’s hand in his. If there’s enough space for a whole other human on the rock to Phil’s other side, well, Dan doesn’t need to know. And if he notices, he doesn’t make it known. 

“Oh! It’s warm,” Phil hums as he lets his legs drop into the water. 

“A fish probably just peed.” 

“Shut up,” Phil kicks Dan’s foot, causing a splash and disrupting the small waves lapping at their legs. “You sound like me.” 

Dan hums. “I’m a sponge.” 

“Hm?” Phil cocks his head. 

“Spend so much time with you, I suck up all your weirdness.” 

“Ew. I don’t like how that sounds.” 

“What?” Dan taps his heel against the side of Phil’s foot, dropping his head on Phil’s shoulder with the action. “I am merely a dry sponge, soaking up all your juices” 

“Ew, no, stop it!” Phil laughs, “I don’t want to think about juices!” 

Dan laughs. “Fine.” He lifts his head from Phil’s shoulder, “I’ll suck your juices some other time.” 

“ _Daniel!_ ” 

“Do you ever feel small?” Phil asks, looking out at the sea before them. 

They managed to pry the cork back out of the almost full bottle of wine Dan swindled the bartender out of, passing it between them as they kick their feet in the water - alternating between giggles and splashing each other and short moments of comfortable silence as they both take it all in. It’s a really sweet wine, something more to Phil’s tastes than Dan’s, but they both agree it’s delicious. The time passes in long swigs and warm fingers as it’s passed back and forth.

“We’re both over six feet, Phil. As much as you want to be tiny, I regret to inform you, you are not.” 

“I’m not talking about microphilia,” Phil huffs, bumping their shoulders together as he takes the bottle from Dan.

He feels warm. Not just from the alcohol, or the warm breeze, or even the tepid water their feet are submerged in, but from Dan himself. He wants to lean into it, cling to the warm feeling. So he does, letting himself rest against Dan’s side instead of sitting back up straight. 

“I mean like, when you look out at the ocean,” Phil gestures before them with the bottle of wine. Doesn’t it make you feel small?” he asks before tilting it back. 

“It frightens me sometimes. The sea is scary,” Phil adds once he’s swallowed, Dan not providing him with a response. Maybe his question is rhetorical anyways, maybe he’s just speaking nonsense. 

After a pause Dan speaks up, his voice less teasing, “Nothing can make me feel small when I’m sat next to you.” 

Phil snorts, “Okay I get it, mister _I’m an inch taller than you_.” 

“Hey! I am,” Dan smacks at Phil’s knee before taking the bottle. “That’s not what I meant though,” he adds in a smaller voice, his thumb picking at the label on the bottle as he looks down at it. 

“What do you mean then?” Phil matches Dan’s soft tone. 

“You make everything less scary. I feel like I can take on the world with you by my side.” 

“Haven’t we already?” Phil laughs so he doesn’t cry. 

Dan hums, “Dan and Phil versus the world, what’s that all about?” 

“That was a really good name.” 

“Why didn’t we go with it again?” 

“Made us sound like too much of a couple, right?” 

“Oh,” Dan nods. “Yeah.” 

“I don’t really see the issue in that now though.” Dan adds when Phil doesn’t respond. It catches Phil off guard, much like Dan’s been doing even before they landed on Santorini. 

Phil isn’t sure what to say, so he deflects. “Mm, all this acting getting to your head?” 

“Something like that.” 

Phil hums. 

“Do you want the last bit?” Dan holds up the bottle, sloshing the liquid at the bottom around. Phil shakes his head and Dan shrugs, putting it back to his lips and tipping his head back with the bottle. The soft light from the moon and the village behind them catches the little silver hoop in Dan’s ear, and Phil makes the mistake of following it down the line of his neck. He swallows as Dan does, both for two completely different reasons. 

He doesn’t know if it’s the wine, or the air, or just Phil finally losing his mind, but his mouth moves before his brain can catch up. 

“You look really beautiful.” 

When his brain does catch up, he doesn’t really regret it. Maybe because it’s the simple truth. He’s stating a fact: Dan Howell is beautiful. 

Or maybe it’s because of the smile that tugs at the corner of Dan’s mouth, a dimple poking in as he puts down the bottle and turns to Phil. There’s no way he could ever regret being the cause of that look on Dan’s face. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Phil Lester,” Dan states, quite frankly. The smile on his face remains as he keeps his eyes on Phil, but his eyes are unreadable in the low light. Phil doesn’t like that, he’s used to reading Dan like a book and he doesn’t like when that isn’t possible. 

“Now it’s my turn to ask what you mean,” Phil quirks a brow. 

Dan sighs, looking back out at the sea. Phil doesn’t follow, keeping his eye on the side of Dan’s face, tracing the little bump in his nose over and over as Dan bites his lip. 

“Bad, bad idea,” Dan says in a soft voice, more to himself but Phil picks it up in the quiet ocean breeze. 

“No,” Phil’s quick to reassure him, “It’s incredible down here.” 

“I’m not talking about this, I’m talking about _this_ ,” he turns only to gesture between the two of them. 

“Wha-” 

“I’ve had too much to drink and you’re too tempting. With your needing a fake boyfriend and your stupid soft hands and, _god,_ do you know how hard it is for me?” Dan huffs as he pushes himself up, standing on the rock next to Phil so he has to look up to see his face. “All I’ve been able to think about all fucking day is how I woke up this morning with you in my arms. You can’t just say shit like that to me on top of all of this.” 

“What…” Phil searches for answers in Dan’s expression that he isn’t getting, that he won’t get from the moonlit shadow that’s fallen over it. “What are you talking about?” 

“I knew you talked in your sleep, but you should really warn a guy that you’re such an insistent sleep cuddler,” Dan replies with a dry laugh. “You have no idea how difficult it was for me to wrangle my way out and get up. I wanted to stay there forever, but I knew I couldn’t. I can’t.”

The gears turn so fast in Phil’s head he’s certain smoke is coming out of his ears. Dan isn’t… He’s not implying what Phil thinks he is? Right? 

“Are we really this stupid?” It’s a safer question than the one he really wants to ask. It also feels more like them, because if this isn’t just a fever dream or figment of Phil’s imagination, they really are so _fucking_ stupid. 

Like, peak idiot behavior.

“I know,” Dan frowns. “I’m sorry, I’m literally ruining a decades long friendship because I can’t keep my mouth closed when I’m drunk off wine and _you_. Fuck, I’m sorry, just forg-”

“Dan,” Phil interrupts. “That’s not what I mean. Are we so stupid that we’re both in- that we both have liked each other and have had no idea?” 

After a long pause Dan finally looks down, meeting Phil’s eyes. 

“We… both?” 

Phil nods. 

Dan shakes his head, looking back out at the sea. “No, we’re idiots but we’re not _that_ clueless. This is just the wine and romanticized destination wedding vacation talking.” 

Phil frowns. He knew it was too good to be true. He could agree, accept the way out knowing Dan doesn’t _actually_ feel the same way, but his mouth is speaking before his mind can stop it. 

“So you don’t actually like me?” 

He’s met with silence, which should be enough to get him to stop. It should be enough to get him to lie, keep up the facade that he isn’t really in love with Dan, so when they’re home and sober he hasn’t completely ruined their friendship. 

But maybe he’s tired of the facade. Maybe he shouldn’t be listening to his brain. 

Phil pulls his feet out of the water and stands up as well. He bumps his shoulder against Dan’s and sighs. “Dan, I’m like obsessed with you. Like properly head over heels pathetically all about you. I’ve always been about you.” 

Silence. 

The crash of waves and Phil’s own beating heart. 

The soft lull of music from a restaurant too far down the path to make out the words and Phil’s pulse in his ears. 

A sharp intake of breath followed by a loud cackle. Dan’s hand grabbing at Phil’s own. 

“We’re idiots,” is what Dan finally says.

He holds tight to Phil’s hand and looks right in his eyes. Phil doesn’t see disbelief or dishonesty or anything of the sort in those crinkly brown eyes. Maybe he’s just projecting, but there’s only relief there. And something soft, something more. Something fond. 

And because they’re Dan and Phil, they laugh. They laugh far too loud for the peaceful quiet of the night. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, doubled over each other, far too trusting of Phil’s clumsy feet by the edge of the water. 

They laugh until they cry, or maybe they’re crying for something else entirely. But it isn’t sad, no, they’re all smiles and exasperated giggles and muttered ‘ _i_ _s this real’_ s as they wipe at their eyes and look at each other like it’s the first time they’ve really seen each other. 

“Hey Phil,” Dan says softly as he bends down to grab the empty bottle of wine and slide on his sandals.

“Yeah?” 

“Let’s go home.” 

***

Home, of course, for the two of them is far more than just their shared flat in London. Phil’s known for a while that they’ve found home in each other. But to get far less deep and emotional about it - as Phil’s far too tired and way too delirious on the idea that Dan might actually feel the same way about him to go there - the home Dan is referring to is their little Santorini villa just up the downright illegal amount of stairs. 

He doesn’t even know how long it takes them, he doesn’t care to take out his phone to check, and they barely even complain about their matching huffing and puffing once they’ve finally made it back through the little white door. 

The only thing Phil cares to think about is Dan. The Dan who’s tossing the keycard on the counter as he steps into the room. 

The Dan Phil has always wondered what it would be like to kiss. The Dan Phil so desperately wants to reach for, grab at, push up against the wall. 

Everything feels different, but exactly the same as Dan turns to him with a lopsided, tired smile. 

“Can you be quiet?” Dan asks with a raised brow. 

“What?” Phil’s brows tug together. “I didn’t say anything?” 

“Your mind. It’s so loud. I can hear you overthinking.” Dan crosses his arms, giving Phil an expectant look. “If you want to kiss me, come over here and do it.” 

Phil chokes on the breath he takes in at Dan’s blunt words, which only causes a coughing fit as they both burst out into laughter. Dan takes the few steps forward instead, hitting Phil on the back a few times while they catch their breath. 

“I’m a mess,” Phil giggles. It feels incredibly weird to be nervous around Dan, he hasn’t felt this way in a very long time. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way around him. 

“We’re a mess,” Dan scrunches his nose as he steps up into Phil’s space, running his hands up and down his biceps. “Can I kiss you? Is that- is this a dumb idea? Should we wait until we haven’t been drinking wine all night? Are you sure you even lik-”

It’s not perfect, but it’s very them. Somehow Phil always knew he would kiss the words right out of Dan’s big, annoying mouth, shutting him up. So it’s fitting really. Their teeth clack together and they mostly laugh right up in each other’s faces before they can even properly kiss, Dan leaning forward this time to catch Phil’s lips. No teeth or giggles, just warm soft lips and a shared content sigh. 

It doesn’t go much further than that, Dan’s bottom lip tugged between Phil’s teeth in the entry of their villa, and soft chaste kisses over and over as they get ready for bed. 

Everything is so new, unchartered territory they’re both hesitant to let themselves fully enjoy as if they’re under a wine fueled, vacation spell that could break at any moment. 

Phil is torn by the hesitance, he wants it all - all of the Dan that he hasn’t been allowed for all of these years. But he can’t be upset about it, not when it’s the smart thing to do. Not when his head is floating in the clouds and he can’t quite differentiate if it’s because of Dan or simply from the wine.

And definitely not when Dan’s warm palm is pressed firmly against his chest, holding him tight and close under the plush hotel duvet. 

If this is a dream, Phil would prefer not to wake up. 

***

The next morning, Phil wakes first. The sun from the balcony insistently beaming into his closed eyes doesn’t give him much of a choice of falling back asleep, as much as he desperately wants to. Not necessarily because he’s tired, but because there’s a warm body - a warm Dan - in his arms, and he wants to savor it as long as he possibly can. 

Somehow in their sleep they’ve swapped positions, Phil all wrapped up around Dan - hotel shampoo and Dan’s cologne in his nose from where he’s nuzzled into the crook of Dan’s neck. He can’t help it, he pulls Dan closer, his palm tacky against Dan’s chest as the warm sea air blows freely into the room. They’re both a bit sweaty, not even stripping down to their pants cuts the early sun’s heat when they’ve been cuddled up close all night. It’s not even gross, Phil actually likes it. It feels real - a bit _hot_ , even if fooling around had nothing to do with it. 

And it _is_ morning, and he _is_ wrapped around one of the fittest guys he’s ever seen, so something else is winning over Phil’s caffeine lacking brain with the thought. There’s an attempt to will it away, a passing thought of ‘ _shouldn’t let those thoughts wander_ ,' but it’s fruitless. 

The more he tries to _not_ think about Dan almost naked in his arms, the more his brain simply only provides a steady stream of: _Dan, Dan, Dan._

He should pry himself away, peel himself out of bed, and shove himself into a cold shower, but he’s holding Dan, and that alone blows his mind enough to know he can’t let go just yet. There’s so much time to make up for, morning wood be damned. He sighs and cuddles closer, making sure to not press his hips against Dan too much, and lets his eyes fall shut again as he presses a featherlight kiss to Dan’s shoulder. 

“You’re up,” Dan’s voice is rumbly and soft with sleep. 

Phil huffs out a laugh against Dan’s shoulder. “You’ve been awake this whole time?” 

Dan hums in response, cuddling back somehow even closer. Phil squeezes around him as he does, as if it was a routine they’ve been doing for years. 

“Oh,” Dan chuckles, “You’re up.” 

It takes a moment, and then another, and then Dan wiggling his hips again for it to click in Phil’s brain. He buries his face in Dan’s neck as it vibrates with his deep morning laughter, he’s sure the newly blossoming heat in his cheeks all the way up to his ears isn’t just from the warmth of the room. 

“Fuck off,” Phil mumbles against Dan’s skin as Dan continues to fill the room with his laughter. 

He tries to shuffle back, away from Dan, but Dan’s quicker than him, reaching his arm back and taking a firm handful of Phil’s ass to keep him in place. 

“I would like to, ideally,” Dan says matter-of-factly, kneading his hand into Phil’s cheek. 

“You’re the worst,” Phil says, or well, he more so moans it. A soft, breathy groan that completely contradicts the sentiment. Because, _god_ , he never thought a simple hand on his ass could short-circuit his brain so quickly. Though it’s not just any hand, it’s _Dan’s_ large, warm hand pressing and squeezing like he’s getting ready to pop Phil’s ass in the oven until it rises so he can slather some butter on it and bite right into it. 

Okay so, maybe Phil is horny _and_ hungry. Can anyone blame him? He’s in bed with Daniel Howell and it’s definitely past breakfast time - that hardly calls for any judgement. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Dan asks without the teasing tone in his voice. 

Phil’s response is immediate. “Absolutely not.” 

Dan hums, but pauses his ministrations and starts to shift. Phil doesn’t stop the soft whine in his throat at the loss of Dan’s hand, but he follows - pulling his face out from its spot in Dan’s neck and leaning back so he can look at him properly. 

The sunlight beaming into the room reveals all of the new freckles Dan has collected in Santorini. His hair is an absolute mess, curls pushed up off his forehead and in every direction from sleep and the salt in the air, and little pillow creases flush the same light shade of red as the spot just below his dimple as he flashes Phil a sleepy smile. He’s everything. Every dream of Phil’s all wrapped up in a nice Dan shaped box. 

“Not drunk, not a dream,” Phil makes a point to pull his arm away from Dan to pinch at his own cheek, then Dan’s - earning a scrunchy nose and a soft ‘ _ouch’_ from Dan, “still want you.” 

“Me too, _fuck,_ ” Dan breathes, “me too.”

One look at Dan’s dark eyes in the bright sunlight is all Phil needs to push forward and capture Dan’s lips in his. It’s burning hot and insistent, the polar opposite to the previous evening’s tentative, slow-building heat. Dan whines against Phil’s mouth and the sound goes straight to his dick, that lazy morning interest turning into a much more urgent need. 

“Need you,” Dan pulls away to look up at Phil with eyes that are even darker. “Please just…” he whines, and shifts them again - grabbing at Phil’s wrist to tug him with him as he rolls back on his side, pulling them into a similar position to the one they woke up in. 

“Always knew you’d be bossy,” Phil teases, a smug grin on his face as he pulls Dan closer. 

Dan reaches back again, giving Phil a light open palmed slap. Phil’s not necessarily proud of the noise that leaves his throat in response. 

“Not bossy, just know what I want,” Dan hums, resuming his previous groping. “Always knew I had a thing for your ass.” 

Phil stifles his laughter in Dan’s neck, it’s followed by a low groan as Dan slips his hand under the band of his pants, pushing them down and grabbing at his ass without the fabric in the way. 

“I hate you,” Phil hums, like only a man in love would. He hates how much he loves the way Dan’s loud laughter fills the room, how perfectly _hot_ it feels to laugh and be _themselves_ while Dan has his hand on his ass. 

Though he loves Dan’s laugh, it’s incredibly satisfying how he’s able to instantly shut it off as he grabs at Dan’s waist to pull him closer before sliding his hand down the front of Dan’s pants. Phil almost thinks he’s done something wrong, a spike of worry in his chest as he wraps his hand around Dan’s hard cock and Dan’s laughter is cut off - quiet filling the room. But just as quickly as Phil’s heart rate begins to spike, he hears - and feels - the rumbly whine that starts in Dan’s throat. It’s long and high, almost like a mewling sound, and Phil can’t help but whine in response as Dan starts to roll his hips forward. 

Phil presses open mouthed kisses and light bites up and down Dan’s neck as they fall into a rhythm - Phil’s cock rubbing against Dan’s ass as he pumps Dan’s cock. The room fills with Dan’s incessant babbling and all of the sounds from Phil’s throat that he usually doesn’t let bubble over. He just can’t seem to help it with Dan, especially when every other loud groan gets a ‘ _that’s so hot’_ in response. 

After letting out a long string of obscenities, Dan shifts as he pushes back against Phil, Phil’s cock sliding between Dan’s cheeks. 

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so good,” he hums in Dan’s ear, biting at his earlobe. This earns another high groan from Dan as his hips stutter, and Phil feels it absolutely everywhere. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Dan leans his head back, moving his hand from Phil’s ass to his hair to pull his head up so he can look at him. “Being so loud with the balcony wide open…” 

Phil starts to see spots at Dan’s words, his blurry vision going worse as his own thrusting gets sporadic. 

“Anyone can hear or see everything we’re doing. I bet you love that, huh?” 

“ _God,_ Dan,” is all Phil can get out as he sees white, his climax tipping over with the image Dan put in his head. If his eyes roll back as he rides out his orgasm - slow pumps of Dan’s cock as he languidly rubs his own against Dan’s ass - well, it’s really for more than one reason. 

The smug grin on Dan’s face when he blinks open his eyes is all he needs to know that Dan knows it too. 

“I cannot _believe_ you know me that well. I hate you.” Phil shakes his head, laughing as his hand starts to pick up speed again, squeezing and pulling in just the right ways to make Dan a whining mess again - mostly just to get the smug, gloating look off his face. 

“You’re my best friend, of course I know your kinks. I’m in your head,” Dan says breathlessly, letting go of his grip on Phil’s hair to relax back onto his chest. 

“Well…” Phil pouts as Dan laughs through a moan. “Well, you’re a furry!” 

Dan scoffs, “So are you!” 

“Fuck. I hate you. I hate it here.” 

“Your hand on my dick says otherwise, bud.” 

Phil huffs, squeezing at the head of Dan’s cock as he strokes only to prove Dan’s point further. 

“So what’s going to set you off then?” he hums into Dan’s ear. Phil can tell Dan’s almost there with the way his breaths are short and ragged, his hips desperately trying to match the rhythm of Phil’s hand - so that’s not why he asks. He mostly just wants to prove that two can play the game. 

“When we get home, I’ll order one of those pretty tails for you - yeah?” 

“Shit,” Dan breathes. “Bold of you- _fuck!_ Bold of you to assume, I - _oh my god, Phil, I’m close -_ that I don’t already have _four_ of them,” he pants. 

Phil hums as Dan whines in his arms, the gears turning in his head as he files through the _Kinks Daniel Howell Jokes About But Are Definitely True_ folder in his brain. He thinks about wrapping a hand around Dan’s throat, his own breath catching with the image as he rubs at the head of Dan’s cock. Dan’s far too close, and even though they’re both nothing if not competitive, he files the thought away for another, more communicative, day. 

Instead he kisses down Dan’s neck again as he speeds his hand’s movements, letting his teeth sink further into Dan’s skin than his previous light bites - which earns a sharp gasp and guttural moan from Dan. He goes even more pliant in Phil’s arms as he lets go and Phil strokes him through it, the hot pulsing against Phil’s palm pulling a whine from his own throat. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of that,” Dan says once words come back to him. Once hands have been wiped on sticky pants, and sticky pants have been peeled off and flung across the room. 

Phil flops his head to the side, looking from the ceiling back to Dan next to him. His face is still flushed a lovely pink, his curls even wilder as they’re now damp with sweat. He’s absolutely beautiful. 

Phil smiles as he rolls on his side, flopping over Dan’s chest to pepper kisses over the freckles under his eyes and on his nose. He giggles and shushes Dan’s complaints of Phil being sweaty and sticky and annoying, making it his mission to kiss every inch of Dan’s face. 

When his mission is done, both of their stomachs aching from laughter, Phil sits up on Dan’s lap to properly look at his face. 

“ _You_ have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of _that_ ,” he says with a soft smile, his heart doing a thousand little flips in his chest. 

***

The breeze is warm, the sun even warmer, and the chilled mimosa in Phil’s hand keeps him on earth. They’re both only in their pants, legs tangled between the small balcony table as they lean back in their chairs. Neither of them even bothered to care to get dressed any further when room service was brought up and set out for them - too caught up in each other to be worried about modesty.

And when it’s so warm and beautiful in Santorini? It would almost be a crime to be any more covered up. 

Phil sips his drink, looking across the table at Dan with a sated smile on his lips. Dan’s hair is wild, an out of control curly mess from sleep, sex, and the salty sea air. His skin is soaking up the sun in a way that Phil would swear was popping new freckles up every minute, and he’s got a similar expression tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looks out at the ocean. 

Phil wants to take a picture, a million of them, but he has no idea where his phone is and he actually doesn’t really care. He’s sure this image of Dan will be ingrained in his memory forever. 

He traces the slope of Dan’s nose with his eyes and files away the thought that he’d like to do the same with the tip of his finger for later. It’s a good nose, a perfect nose. It looks like art, _he_ looks like art. 

Phil sighs, it’s soft and content and he can feel it deep in his very warm heart. Sitting there, overlooking the coast of a Greek island in nothing more than his pants and the bit of flakey pastry on the corner of his lip, Dan looks like home. 

Dan looks like warmth and love and Phil’s forever, and it’s not shocking to Phil that his perception of Dan is no different than it was a week ago. There was never going to be a big revelation or anything of the sort, because Dan’s always been home for Phil. And Phil’s always loved Dan. 

They’re idiots really, but Phil doesn’t think he would have it any other way. He smirks and takes another sip of his drink before setting it down and pushing up out of his seat to lean across the table. 

“You have a crumb,” he explains as he swipes at the corner of Dan’s mouth, flicking the bit of pastry away. The calming sounds of the waves and the sea breeze have nothing on Dan’s laugh. And even though Phil never wants it to stop, he feels compelled to kiss the sound right out of Dan’s mouth. So he does, almost knocking over the vase of water in the middle of the table in the process, leaning further across the table and gripping Dan’s jaw in his hand to unceremoniously press their lips together in a quick chaste kiss. 

Dan smiles into it. Phil pulls away and plops back into his chair before he can fully destroy their breakfast spread on the table by getting carried away kissing Dan. 

Dan lets out a small sigh as he looks from Phil, to the sea, then back again. 

“I’m scared that we’re going to go home and this is all going to just be a Greek dream,” Dan says quietly after a silent lingering gaze. He looks back out to the sea, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Phil hates how beautiful he looks even when worry is spread across his entire face. Moreso though, Phil hates that Dan could think there is any possibility that all of this is nothing more than a holiday fling. 

“ _Hey,”_ Phil says softly. He waits, watches Dan’s bare chest rise with a shuddering breath before finally turning to look back at Phil. “Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s not real.” Phil emphasizes his point by running his foot up Dan’s thigh, a _real_ grounding connection, and Dan visibly relaxes. 

“I love you.” It’s said as easily as ‘ _Good Morning’_ or ‘ _What’s for breakfast?’_ and Phil has never felt it so sure in his heart. “I’ve loved you for a long time now, always have,” he adds with a laugh. Because it’s true, he has. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dan huffs a small laugh out of his nose, “I love you.” He wipes at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand and Phil feels it too, that happy, choked up feeling making his vision a little blurry.

Dan scoots his chair away from the table and pats his lap, “C’mere.” 

Phil doesn’t need to be asked twice. He steps around the table and plops down in Dan’s lap, letting Dan manhandle him a bit as he wraps his arms around Phil’s waist and pulls him back close to his chest. Phil leans back and Dan hooks his chin over Phil’s shoulder, like two puzzle pieces designed to click together perfectly. 

He looks out at the water, at the little bobbing sailboats below, and feels Dan press a few gentle kisses to his jaw. 

“I wanna take you on one,” Dan’s voice vibrates against Phil’s skin and Phil feels it all the way down his spine. 

Phil hums. “Now?” Another breeze picks up, almost in response, and the sails of the little boats ripple as they fight against their anchors and ties. The water catches the sun and glitters in a way that Phil thought only happened in movies. But it’s real, he doesn’t doubt it for a second. Phil has never felt more _real_ in his life than he does now.

“Mm, don’t want to move anytime soon.” Dan tightens his grip around Phil’s waist and nuzzles his nose into the side of Phil’s neck. “We’ve got all week. We’ve got all the time in the world. I’m in no rush.” 


End file.
